


A Kiss Before Dying

by a_bad_poem



Series: Years and Years [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:15:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4340972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_bad_poem/pseuds/a_bad_poem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's daughter is eight years old, and Sherlock's cleverness has rubbed off on her. John doesn't know how to feel about that when his own child tries to set him up with Sherlock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kiss Before Dying

**Author's Note:**

> there wasnt supposed to be a sequel. oops.

"Daddy?" Justice cooed one night as John was tucking her into bed. 

"Yes darling?" John asked, flicking off the lamp that stood on the nightstand.

"Are you in love?"

John froze, unsure if his daughter had really just asked him that. "Uh...what-what do you mean?"

"With William."

John licked over his lips thoughtfully. Justice called Sherlock by his real first name, William. It pissed the detective off to no end, but Justice took pride in that. "What, uh...what makes you think that, sweetie?" John asked, shifting slightly on the bed. 

Justice shrugged, looking up at her father with big eyes. "A lot of little things. Like the way you look at him, and even when you talk about him; you smile and there's this twinkle in your eyes."

John pursed his lips. Justice was only eight years old. If she could read him like that, who else knew about his crush?

"Uh...yeah," he admitted, nodding his head once and offering a stiff smile to his daughter. "Yeah, I guess I am."

Justice smiled brightly, her eyes crinkling. "You should ask him out," she suggested cheerfully. Even at such a young age, she could tell John got lonely sometimes when she was at school. He'd arrive ten minutes early, text her during her breaks. 

"Yeah, I'd love to." John raised his brows skeptically at the thought. Sherlock dating? Ridiculous. "Goodnight, Justice," he said dismissively, then stood from the bed and left the room. 

He sighed as he rolled into bed early that night. He'd tried to watch TV, but Justice's words stayed with him. He was too old to be dating again. Besides, Sherlock had no interest in romance with anybody. 

 

'Come over.  
SH'

This was the text that woke John in the early hours of the morning, weeks later. Dawn had just broken through, and John stared at the ceiling until his phone buzzed again. 

'Now.  
SH'

John sighed, giving in to Sherlock's demand. He splashed his face with cold water in the washroom before gently waking Justice up. John's experience in the battlefield made him a quick riser and ready to leave at any second, so they were at Sherlock's apartment within fifteen minutes. 

Sherlock looked up when he heard the door open, the pads of his fingers touching like usual. "John." He lowered his gaze unto his friend's daughter. "Nice to see you again, Justice." The words had barely made it out of his mouth before he stood up with a start, making his already large presence even larger.

Ever since Justice had called Sherlock her father as an infant, Sherlock had sensed an odd feeling between them. Not that Justice could even remember that experience. 

"What do you need this time, Sherlock?" John asked, an arm securely wrapped around Justice's shoulders.

Sherlock smiled at him. "Care for some dessert?"

John found himself sitting inside a restaurant at six in the morning eating pie with his problematic crush and happy-go-lucky daughter questioning his life decisions.

"Sherlock?" John asked as he approached the midway point of his slice of pie.

Sherlock looked toward the call of his name, eyebrows raised in question and coincidentally pulling his puppy dog eyes. His pie was covered in a big dollop of whipped cream. Even Justice didn't have as much of the white fluff as Sherlock did. 

"Why are we doing this?" John poised his question, and it seemed to hang in the air before settling in. 

Sherlock waited a moment before answering, swallowing his food. "It was Justice's idea."

John didn't know what to say to that. His brows slowly but surely knitted together in confusion, and he glanced at the seat beside him. Justice's light eyes met his with an innocent stare.

"Justice?" He prompted an explanation. 

"You two hadn't seen each other in a while, so I asked William to bring you out here."

"Don't call me that," Sherlock stepped in, though his words went right through John's skull. 

"You said you wanted to ask William something," Justice added when John didn't immediately respond, taking her father's hand under the table and squeezing gently in encouragement.

"It's Sherlock," the detective muttered, leaning back in his chair.

"I--" John stopped his denial. He _had_ said that. Sort of.

"So go ahead. William's listening," Justice smiled, heart swelling with a proud feeling that her plan was going to work. 

"It's Sherlock! Call me--"

"Sherlock," John butt in, leaning across the table to grasp the man's hand. He didn't know where this surge of confidence was coming from, but he was going to use it to his advantage. 

"John?" Sherlock frowned, wide, curious brown eyes meeting John's. 

John felt the confidence fade away. He slowly pulled back, Sherlock's hand slipping out of his. "Um...nothing. Sorry." He stood up, urging Justice to do so as well. "It was, ah, it was good. To see you again." He nodded his head, taking Justice's hand and exiting the restaurant, leaving behind half a piece of pie, melted whipped cream, and a dark-haired mystery. 

"Daddy! What was that?" Justice frowned as she got into the backseat of John's car. 

"That," John said with a grunt as he settled in, buckling his seatbelt, "was me deciding that I do not need Sherlock Holmes." Romantically, at least. 

Justice fell silent, leaning back in her booster seat and staring out the window. 

 

Every so often Justice would bring up the idea of asking Sherlock out, and every time John would deny it. 

On Valentine's Day that year, Justice had gone off with her friends to a school dance. John found himself lost in thought in his chair with a cup of hot cocoa. 

Then he found himself changing his clothes, combing his hair, and spraying cologne.

Then he found himself at Sherlock's door, knocking. 

Sherlock had just been about to pick up his violin and compose a song or two. He strode over to the door and opened it, not surprised when he saw John. "You know you don't have to knock. Why did you?" He said, brows furrowed. 

"Oh. Right. Uh..." John scratched the back of his neck, shuffling on his feet.

"Going on a date?"

"What?" John looked up at Sherlock with big eyes. His plan had been to play it cool. It wasn't turning out that way. He could feel his cheeks begin to burn bright red.

"You're wearing your nice slacks, button-up coat, and you've combed your hair back. Also, your cologne smells like moonshine. You might want to change that," Sherlock said quickly, eyes scanning John up and down. The thought of Mary passed through his mind, and something tugged at his heart strings. His upper lip twitched. "Going. On. A. Date?"

"It's, uh...it's for you, actually," John admitted, smiling nervously. 

Sherlock frowned, confusion overcoming his features. "Why should I care how you dress and/or smell?"

John couldn't believe how clueless the detective was being. Then again, when it came to himself, Sherlock had a lot to learn. 

"Sherlock Holmes, will you go out with me?"


End file.
